Slice of Life 2022: 19 of 31- Julia's birthday post

     It's March, and March means the Slice of Life Story Challenge. All are welcome to join the challenge of noticing and writing about the moments of daily life that are stories.

For eleven years, I've been slicing in March, so my first post on March 19 wished Julia a happy 13th birthday. Daughter #2 turns 24 today, and it's been a year. The ups and downs of the last 12 hours sums up the ups and downs of her year. Yesterday, our perfectly planned and scheduled Spirit flight was delayed four hours and then canceled. We worked fast and got on a Frontier flight as the last four passengers. A child in the seats behind us cried, no-- screamed, for almost the whole trip. (She fell asleep as the plane was descending.) Once we landed at 11:50 pm, there was no gate for the plane, and we sat on the plane for an hour. It was a depressing announcement when the pilot announced we could unbuckle and use the bathroom because it would be a while. And that kid behind us? Back to screaming. So that was the start of the birthday. 

It took another hour to get bags and a car, and another couple hours to drive from Orlando to Tampa, our original destination and where we needed to meet up with Daughter #3 in the hotel we had booked. She was sound asleep when we checked in at 3:40 am. 

Julia's year began with some downs, but what highs she had. Even though she postponed her graduation from Wesleyan, we celebrated her and her graduating friends on a hot but beautiful May day. 

She went on in the year to captain the most successful Wesleyan women's soccer game in history, and played with every bit of joy and commitment of anyone I've ever seen. 

Julia's team finished their season in the Final Four, a major accomplishment in the career of any college athlete. You can see a bit of the celebration and joy in these pictures taken after their overtime win against MIT that sent them to the semifinals in Greensboro, North Carolina. 

 

And at the tournament, Julia was awarded with the Elite 90 award, given to the Final Four athlete with the highest GPA, as well as a spot on the all-tournament team and a place on the CoSIDA All American team. What an amazing career. 

The last couple of months have focused on recovering from a torn ACL a week after returning to campus from the tournament, but she's well on her way, and currently at the hotel gym as I sit and write this post. Even with a 4 am bedtime, she is up and at it, working hard on her recovery. 

Just as the weekend holds great promise, so does the upcoming year for Jules, as she'll head off to a postbac program and medical school this May. This girl. Happy birthday to Julia! 

Slice of Life 2022: 18 of 31- A single step is a start on a journey!

    It's March, and March means the Slice of Life Story Challenge. All are welcome to join the challenge of noticing and writing about the moments of daily life that are stories.

For the last two months, I've been working in a kindergarten classroom. It's a complicated group of kids with a complex collection of challenges exacerbated by a number of factors including each other, and they are no doubt making be a better teacher and coach, although an exhausted teacher and coach. 

In the entire time I've gone in, R. has not drawn or written. Not one picture. Not one word. Until today.

During the first couple of weeks, he huddled in a ball on the floor. Legit. In a ball. On the floor. (Please know how hard this is for me to write.)

Trust me. I asked a lot of questions. Yep, he was the worst in writing. Yep, it happens in other content areas. Yep, they've talked to mom. Yep, these behaviors are new. 

Trust me. I've consulted with other kindergarten teachers, other coaches, the school psychologist, and colleagues outside of the district. I've tried shared writing, interactive writing, no writing-- just pictures. As soon as I approach though, the head goes down, and R. closes up as tightly as a captured clam. 

I've tried going in at different times. When I do, he greets me with a big smile-- sometimes even a hug. He now stays in his seat, and the writing folder is on his desk. But he doesn't open it. And he hasn't written. Until today.

Last week, I took a different approach. My thinking: I've got to get this kid to like me before I can get him to write with me. 

I didn't bring up writing at all. Instead, I read a book with just him. A funny one. He had folded one of my conference cards into an impressive paper airplane, and I think I shocked him when I made an equally impressive paper airplane out of his writing checklist. The two of us went into the hallway after (not) writing time and analyzed the merits of both our designs. My status might have moved up a few notches because my airplane was the clear winner. 

Today, I taught a group of five about telling their story across pages. R. has two dogs, so my demonstration writing involved taking my dog for a walk. All of the students participated in storytelling taking Winnie for a walk when I got home from work. They all, including R., helped tap out words as I wrote the first two pages. They all, except R., told their own stories across pages and were excited to get busy tapping and writing their own pieces. 

"R," I said, "how about you write the ending for my story?"

We didn't have much time since it was a half-day, and writing time was seriously shortened, but I didn't have to wait long. R. picked up one of my pens, and together, we tapped, and he wrote. 

He wrote! 

He might not write tomorrow. My expectations are in check. But today, he wrote the ending to my story. He tapped out sounds, he formed his letters, and he wrote that I took my dog for a walk. 

Trust me. I know I have miles to go. But even a journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step. 

Slice of Life 2022: 17 of 31- No worries, I said to myself...

    It's March, and March means the Slice of Life Story Challenge. All are welcome to join the challenge of noticing and writing about the moments of daily life that are stories.

I had a bit of PTSD today. Any of you who are reading this post and taught virtually may break an empathetic sweat as you read this post. You've been warned. 

Over the last couple of years, I've done my share of Zoom presentations. I've gotten pretty adept at keeping track of the chat while sharing my screen while opening a new tab, while talking and presenting a slide deck. Therefore, when the woman who is in charge of our district's paraprofessionals asked me if I'd do an hour of  virtual professional development with them during conference week, I said sure. No worries. 

I've tried to develop a relationship with Google Meets, but for me, I have to say, Zoom is by far the frontrunner. Usually when I present within the district, people will use Zoom, but I knew that would not go over today. I'd have to use Google Meets. Okay, no worries, I said to myself. 

The last time I used my personal computer with Google Meets, my computer wouldn't allow me to share my screen and present. I thought I was pretty smart logging into the meet ahead of time logged into Google Chrome through my school identity as opposed to my personal one. I did a test share, presenting to myself, and it gave me no problem at all. The presentation came right up. I was all set. I even had enough time to fill up my water bottle. No worries, I said to myself. 

Leaving my audio and video off, I watched as people began to come into the meeting. Across the district people were watching in groups, and many of them were watching on a Smartboard. Because of this they weren't able to turn on a camera, and many weren't able to talk to me, either. Or, they could be seen but not heard. At least they could communicate through the chat, but they weren't too chatty. So, by my count, there were fifty or so people, some whom I could see, a few I could hear, and some I could receive comments or questions from through the chat. No worries, I said to myself. Not ideal, but still doable. 

I greeted people, talked about how I'd run the hour, what they could expect, how they could reach me, and then... I went to share my screen. 

Sharing is disabled, my computer said. 

What? 

I tried again, concentrating on keeping a calm face. 

Sharing was still disabled, and to change the settings, it directed me to log out and then log back on. Well, that wouldn't work. 

"Okay everyone," I said. "You are with friends. Be social for two minutes. I'm going to plan B."

No worries was no longer the refrain in my head. 

They couldn't see my crossed fingers or feel my sweaty palms as I turned on my desk computer which has no camera. (Who needs a camera on their computer when constantly being asked to join virtual meetings?) I was pretty sure I could present from that computer and keep the camera on with my personal computer. Once I got that up and working, they let me know with nods and shakes that the sound was okay and not echoing. 

Although I was never quite sure which screen to look at and what they were seeing as far as my profile or the front of me was concerned, I did get the presentation up and running. They're a forgiving and grateful group, so I could tell by the few people I could see that we were back on track and they were happy with at least some of the ideas I was giving them. And I'll even admit that there was something nice about keeping the chat open on the computer that wasn't the one I was presenting from. 

Mostly, I don't mind virtual presentations, and yes, technology is great when it's great. But wow, I get shaky in those moments when things don't work as expected. And I bet many of you know the feeling! Just a little PTSD on a Wednesday afternoon! 

Slice of Life 2022: 16 of 31- Sticking with the day-of scenarios

   It's March, and March means the Slice of Life Story Challenge. All are welcome to join the challenge of noticing and writing about the moments of daily life that are stories.

My daughter Larkin outed me a bit tonight. I read her post for today after finishing a couple of tutoring sessions, and she wrote and reflected about our recent conversation. Yes, I told her that she didn't have to slice every day, and I also added that I have my stock of back-up slices for the days when nothing's coming through for me or when I run out of time. Here's her quote of what I said. (Yes, I'm quoting my daughter who was quoting me! lol.)

It can be really handy to have some back ups written for the days you know you’re swamped. That’s what I do.

Larkin had the perfect response to my confession, and here's her take on her response:

Well, yeah. I told her. (That's Larkin talking!) But I’ve also been trying to get better about slicing about day-of scenarios. I don’t want to let that go because I got lazy.

Tonight, I've started and re-started a few different posts, and I'm resisting the temptation to pull my ready-to-go slice in my document titled "Slices for 2022." The truth is that the posts I have started depress even myself. The slicing moments that I've started involve frustrating moments with work, unsupportive statements from a colleague, and upsetting medical news from a family member. I didn't have time to take the dogs on a walk or do more of a workout than a quick core class. I didn't have a meaningful moment with a student. I didn't do anything that felt slice worthy.

So maybe it's a day to notice and appreciate some small things:

• the plate of cheese and crackers my husband brought into me when I was prepping for my tutoring session
• the scratch on the door of my dog wanting to come in and sit on my feet
• the phone call from a daughter checking in to say hi and love you
• the time carved out by colleagues to meet after work for a drink-- or in my case, a cup of coffee
• the ending of the 2022 Clayton season (I'm not proud that I know anything about this one!)

Thanks Larkin, for the push to stick with the day-of scenarios. I love being on these month-long journeys with you, as well as so many others in this amazing community!

Slice of Life 2022: 15 of 31- Another yoga-inspired reflection

  It's March, and March means the Slice of Life Story Challenge. All are welcome to join the challenge of noticing and writing about the moments of daily life that are stories.

I hadn't been to yoga in a while, as it's something I do during the summer and not during the school year. During the summer, I become somewhat of a regular, and sometimes I talk to the teachers. Mostly, I prefer to head to my corner, spread out my mat, and engage in my own practice until class starts. I don't wear my glasses during yoga, and although I'm far from blind, faces are not clear without them. I really am in my own space on my own mat during most of my minutes in class. 

When Amy and I showed up in yoga class on Saturday morning, I am pretty sure that the instructor, Michelle, was surprised to see us. I thought about saying hello, but she was talking to other people, and I didn't want to interrupt. I thought about letting her know that I'd had my booster shingles shot and my left arm wasn't functioning at its best, but I didn't want to sound like an excuse-maker. I'd just go about my practice in my incognito, vision-impaired way. 

 Maybe because the class was small, maybe because I was in my spot, maybe because I was with Amy... I didn't stay incognito for too long. Michelle started class, and she came right over and said a quiet hello. I was great with the hello. What I wasn't great with was when she came up behind me to lift my sore left arm a little higher. Yoga is a pretty quiet activity, so I think even the person in the opposite corner heard my gasp, which was about the last thing I meant to do! Did my arm really hurt that much? Not really. But was I at ALL comfortable with someone touching me because of it? Not at all. And was I expecting it? NOT at all. Michelle apologized. I did too, letting her know why I'd reacted like that, letting her know anywhere besides my left arm was okay for touch. I laughed a little, more to signal we were okay than because I thought anything was funny. I concentrated hard on getting back into my own practice. 

I've reflecting on this experience over the couple of days since it happened. In a yoga class, a safe place for me, Michelle, with all positive intent, touched me in a painful spot. I was momentarily embarrassed and distracted from the work I was doing. Because I am confident in my yoga practice, happy to be there, and replete with positive past experiences with Michelle, I got right over it and continued the class. But what if any of those circumstances weren't true? When do I touch a painful spot when working with a student or a teacher? How do they let me know, or how do they hide it? How do I build the foundation so that when I do, they're able to express it, maybe even laugh, and regain their composure to get back into their work? 

And, continuing the reflection, why wouldn't I have told Michelle in the first place? Why did I feel like what I should have communicated mattered less than some of the other conversations, and how do I make sure that all students feel like they matter enough to express themselves? 

Usually I love yoga because of the strength, balance, and progress I experience, and I also love it because of the parallels I find in life. Almost always, there's something within a class that helps me feel like a better person. 

Perhaps I'm making more sense to myself than to anyone who reads this-- feel free to translate some of my reflections or even expand them! It was a sliver of life that has set me off into reflections! 

Slice of Life 2022: 14 of 31- Making lunch with not much left

 It's March, and March means the Slice of Life Story Challenge. All are welcome to join the challenge of noticing and writing about the moments of daily life that are stories.

"Uh oh," Garth and I both said as Julia came into the kitchen just as we were cleaning up the dinner mess. 

"There's not much left here for dinner," he said. 

"Don't you worry," I said to Julia. "We'll make you a great dinner."

She'd come in late on Thursday night since she had worked and then headed to physical therapy. ACL reconstruction is a long recovery! 

I'd also had a long day at work, and then I finally went for my shingles booster shot. (I'd postponed that and procrastinated that for six months and a week.) Maybe it was fatigue, maybe it was the effect of the shot, maybe I'm just losing my mind a l little, (I'm needing every excuse I can think of...) but I had sort of forgotten about making her a plate of dinner. In fact, I was so busy gathering advice from my aunt who is a retired kindergarten teacher that I ate all the potatoes without thinking about the third person who'd be coming in hungry. (Again, looking for excuses here!) Garth and I had scraped together omelettes for dinner which had served me well as my arm was already sore and a headache was developing. 

We resurrected the mess, scraping even further to make an omelette for Julia despite her assertions that she was fine, and then, as part of the cleaning process, she tried to assemble her lunch for the following day. 

"Not much here for lunch, either," Julia laughed as we cleaned the kitchen for a second time. 

"Don't you worry," I said. "I have plenty on hand for a great salad for you, and I'll make it in the morning."

A recent slicer had written about stopping home and enjoying the lunch her mother made her. My Julia is in between college and graduate school beginning in June, and we usually make lunch for or with each other. I'm savoring my days with her, and there's something about sending someone you love off with food that feels so good to me. 

I'm proud to say that I was a better mother in the morning. Booster shots knock me down, and I did very little else on Friday but I did get up to make my girl a fabulous salad for lunch. 

Sometimes there's just enough left. 

Slice of Life 2022: 13 of 31- A different kind of energy

      It's March, and March means the Slice of Life Story Challenge. All are welcome to join the challenge of noticing and writing about the moments of daily life that are stories.

I walked into the kindergarten class at the same time the sub did. In sharp contrast to the grandmotherly subs that usually cover kindergarten classes, this sub was an over six-foot, athletic looking young man. 

"I'm J.," he said. 

"Welcome, J.," I said. "Did you eat your Wheaties this morning?"

"No," he replied. "No Wheaties. Why?"

He reacted with confidence when I suggested that this group of kids would take a fair amount of energy. He'd been a student at the school, and he was sure they'd have a great day. We went over the sub plans together, and I showed him where I'd be back to help. 

"Do you want to teach?" I asked. Assumptions aside, he didn't seem like someone with a teacher calling, although I am aware of my bias as I write this. 

"I need the money," he said. "I'm working on my Masters at Wesleyan and coaching football." 

Wesleyan? "My daughter just finished there," I said, easily envisioning the two of them knowing each other. "She was on the soccer team." 

He didn't know her. "The name's familiar," he said. 

For just a split second, my meddling-mother-self thought about working on that, but I decided against it. All I really knew about him was that he didn't eat Wheaties. 

He told me a little more about his life as an elementary student in this very same classroom, but there wasn't a lot of time before the students began to filter in, and I had a to-myself chuckle about their reactions to their substitute teacher. He was a far cry from Mrs. B., a retired teacher who frequently fills in.

The combination of curiosity and control kept me in the room. Jake might know his way around a football field, but classroom management was a whole different beast. I left after a morning meeting, a writing session, a motor break, and a read aloud. Jake and I led quite a game of Simon Says with commands to do jumping jacks, squats, and overhead presses, sprinkled in between Simon saying touch your toes. 

When I checked back in later in the afternoon, the kids were watching a video. Maybe that was part of the sub plans-- I'd like to think not, but anything's possible-- and maybe it was part of a survival tactic. 

In any case, the teacher's name is on the absence list today, and Jake is not on the sub list. Maybe he's stocking up on his Wheaties, as kindergartners can be a whole different level of exhausting than football practice.